Pay day yet again. John and I make a feeble attempt to catch a bus. Arrive in Guiseley in a terrible mood. I am ususally a placid character, but I wouldn't say shy. Tonight though I feel very angry. I only ever experience such anger several times a year.
John wants to go for a drink so we go into the Drop - can't stand the place myself. Ask the tarty looking landlady for two pints of bitter. She answers: "Don't you mean two shandies?" After a five minute argument about our ages I tell her to "fuck off". I will never darken the doorstep of that place again.
Disturbed that June did not contact me. She thinks I am unaware of her drifting away from me.
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Saturday September 28, 1985
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